


Aven-Car

by primamagnus



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Character Interpretation, Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Developing Relationship, Disturbing Themes, Eldritch, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Horror, Kidnapping, Modern Era, Neutral Pennywise (IT), Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Build, Slow To Update, Stephen King References, To Be Edited
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21901138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primamagnus/pseuds/primamagnus
Summary: To carry the kill and prepare to make it into something else.
Relationships: Pennywise (IT) & Reader, Pennywise (IT)/Reader
Kudos: 17





	Aven-Car

**Author's Note:**

> I had this little thing pop up in my mind, and decided to make a fic out of it! Keep the tags and mind with caution, and take note that the Reader will be thrown into a really bad situation (no non-con, but keep that "kidnapping" tag in mind please). Reader doesn't have a full name - like in my previous stories - but acts like an OC with pre-established traits. I write Pennywise/IT as a generally neutral character in this, but that changes as the story progresses.
> 
> Additional warnings/tags will be mentioned at the beginning of any chapter that I see requires one.
> 
>  **Additional Info:**  
>  Please do not repost/translate this work on any other website without my permission.
> 
>  _Aven-Car_ is to only be posted under my user ( **primamagnus** ) on Archive of Our Own exclusively. This is a non-commercial fanfiction, and is not intended to represent any real people. All characters and source material belong to their rightful owners, and I do not claim any ownership over any of them except for my own characters.
> 
> This story was written without a beta reader, so please excuse me if there are any grammatical/spelling errors.
> 
> Reader is AFAB & feminine, but is referred to with gender-neutral pronouns.

You were walking down Main Street when you saw it.

You’ve been having a shitty week as it was, and the only thing you could think of - out of all of the things to do in Derry (though that list was pretty small as it was) - was to go to the Falcon Bar. You weren’t, by all means, an alcoholic but you always found the comfort of people satisfying, even if you claimed that you didn’t.

It wasn’t the idea of talking to people that had charmed you, but the practice of just watching them; that everyone went about their own business for their own reasons. You never talked to anyone at the bars, diners, or stores in Derry. It just wasn’t your thing, but somehow, _listening_ to them talk was more comforting than anything else in the world.

It must’ve been around eleven when you left the building, in the dead of night of September; September pushing October in a few days. You were sober, tired, and cold - wanting to seek the comfort of your bed as soon as possible. The street seemed as dead as the people, and all the shops were closed and locked up for the night.

It was probably a bad thing, on your end, to be walking out so late (not to mention the fact that you lived down on Main Street; in the crappy apartments next to the Canal). But, home wasn’t too far away, and you could take a break. You rest a hand on the center of your chest, balling it into a fist to stop the jingling of your keys from your lanyard.

_(But you swore you could hear something jingling behind you.)_

You had stopped at the Canal, propping your arms against the rusted railing, leaning against it while you tried to think your troubles away. They didn’t, they never went away, but you liked the idea of it. Your eyes trailed over the expanse of your surroundings: rushing water, golden leaves, and a single red balloon.

_Wait._

You pause, hands gripping the railing.

Yes - you weren’t seeing things - there was a single balloon above the Canal, perfectly stationary above the rushing water and array of rocks. A long string, a sliver of white, teased at your mind: so close to the water but never really touching it. You swallow a knot in your throat, bringing the back of your hands to knuckle at your eyes, letting out a deep sigh.

 _You’re just seeing things,_ you chide. _That’s what you get for staying up late._

When you bring your hands down, you let out a sigh of relief to see that the balloon was gone. You promptly check the time on your phone, adrenaline dying down with your last remaining energy, and head back home without another thought to spare. Fumbling with your lanyard, you suck in a deep breath when the keys click and turn - granting you access to your home.

The stale smell of your carpet, overpowered by a lemon-lavender candle you had lit in the bathroom, fills your mind with ease. Your shoes were off, followed by your socks and jacket. You were dead tired from staying up too late (but you couldn’t help it; there was a really entertaining group in the bar), and it wouldn’t be long until you dropped from exhaustion.

Your bathroom was small, with one toilet, one sink, and one bath/shower. You had gotten a pretty good deal for this apartment - you heard from the previous tenant that the sink bubbled up blood before, but didn't pay any mind to that. You were just desperate for a home at the time. You glance at the mirror, a sigh falling from your lips at your appearance. You were met with the sight of slightly messy hair; chapped lips; saggy eyes; a lone scab on your forehead from picking at a pimple too much; and a balloon behind you—

You startle again, rapidly turning around with a scream choking up in your throat.

There it was again, the balloon: the one you had seen less than four minutes ago above the Canal. Except now, it was in your room, and you _weren’t_ hallucinating. You bring a hand out, curling it until your pointer finger was the only one out, and prodded at the balloon. It made a soft noise, bouncing back before swaying to and fro. The single light of your bathroom illuminated the balloon, casting shadows and light over the object in a way that could only tell you it was real.

Your hands grip the slippery porcelain of your sink, trying to calm your hurried breaths. After swaying from your intrusion, the balloon was back in its stationary spot. The string attached it was long enough for it to curl on your bathroom floor, forming a perfect loop that had nearly touched the tips of your toes.

You didn’t move - you couldn’t.

You had no idea what to do, a million thoughts running through your mind. Your nails curled and dug into the sink, trying to scratch it to calm down your nerves; the only sound filling your mind was your lanyard jostling your keys, the light in your balloon, and someone’s TV (probably your upper neighbor’s) muffled against the walls.

Closing your eyes, you buried your face into your shoulder, taking another long breath. You began to count - _one, two, three...ten...fifteen..._ \- and when you reached thirty, you opened your eyes and found nothing again.

No balloon.

Your chest hurt from your rapidly beating heart, face twisted in fear and pain, but you still found the motivation to finish your nightly routine and head to bed. You changed into a loose t-shirt and a pair of shorts, locking all of the doors in your apartment, shut your closet door out of panic, and clambered into bed.

With a blanket covering your body, a flattened pillow smashed against your ear to block out all other sounds - you found yourself scrolling on your phone to pass the time: watching random videos until sleep finally took you over.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always greatly appreciated!  
> I always read and try to reply to all of them! <3


End file.
